Lily stood on the large, sun-warmed stone at the edge of the forest clearing, her arms crossed and her face red with frustration. She had come here to be alone, away from her siblings who never seemed to listen, and away from the chores that filled every corner of her day. The stone was her favorite spot—quiet, steady, safe. But today, even it couldn’t calm her. She was angry. Angry at her brother for teasing her again, angry at her mother for not noticing, and angry at herself for caring so much. She kicked a pebble off the stone, watching it bounce down the slope. “It’s not fair!” she yelled, her voice echoing in the trees. In her frustration, she took a step back, not realizing how close she was to the edge. Her heel slipped, and before she could react, she tumbled off the stone. Her body hit the ground with a thud, scraping her hands and bruising her side. For a moment, she just lay there, stunned. Then the tears came—not from the pain, but from the overwhelming wave of everything she had been holding in. She cried into the dirt, letting it all out at last. After a while, the forest seemed to breathe around her. A breeze brushed her hair from her face. A bird chirped gently from a nearby branch. Lily sat up slowly, wiping her tears with the back of her muddy hand. She felt a little lighter, even with the soreness in her side. Sometimes, falling isn’t the worst thing. Sometimes, it’s what helps you rise again.
